SYOT: Time to Shine
by Willow.Everdeen
Summary: Welcome to the 44th Annual Hunger Games. This year the tributes' strengths will be put to the test. For three days they will train in the art of survival, and be prepared to fight to the death until a lone victor remains. SYOT, apps open. Will you be the victor of the 44th Games?
1. Control Room

The control room was abuzz as the Gamemakers put the finishing touches on the arena design. After 2 hours of work today, they finished the map, the plans, and the mutt designs. Weeks of effort.

"Head Gamemaker Jaybel, show me the finished product," said President Snow.

"Certainly, President," Jaybel said, proudly presenting a journal filled with notes and an overview of the arena. President Snow read it, his expression remaining stable throughout the whole duration. At the end, he gave a cruel smile. "Perfect. Get started on the building."

With a sigh of relief, Jaybel ordered the builders to start working on this year's arena. After the president had gone, she smirked to herself, and started to plan the natural disasters she could include in this year's Games.

This is an SYOT! Please send your apps in PM to me.

Name:

Age: Must be between 12 and 18

District: 1 to 12

Appearance: DETAILED!

Personality: DETAILED!

Reaped/Volunteered:

Reason/Reaction:

Family:

History: DETAILED!

Allies? (yes or no, specify some if you like):

Romance? (only one romance allowed, so the first pair to agree on a romance gets it):

Reaping outfit: Polyvore, image or description

Parade outfit: Same as above

Interview outfit: Same as above

Preferred weapon: You're not guaranteed to get that weapon, but if you're lucky, you will

Preferred rank: Remember only 1 can come 1st. I will randomly select that one. We will need some bloodbath tributes as well.

You can submit up to 4 unless we get lots of entries. If you're submitting more than one, make sure you submit a bloodbath tribute! With bloodbath tributes, you can make the detailed sections a little less detailed.


	2. Tribute List

_Tribute list (includes reserves):_

_NOTE: Romance has been taken! Also if you applied but your name isn't up there yet shoot me a PM and I'll sort it._

District 1:

F - Alicia Bonebare (Keb85)

M - Open

District 2:

F - Open

M - Reserved

District 3:

F - Electra Bloomingdale (Freckle-el-Gecko)

M - Cabel Flounce (Freckle-el-Gecko)

District 4:

F - Teal Blue (Willow Everdeen) Note: I will not make Teal win XD that would just be unfairness Lol.

M - Open

District 5:

F - Physica Chance (Freckle-el-Gecko)

M - Bolton Usura (Buttons301)

District 6:

F - Zoey Rusti (Bmwm505)

M - Remy Fiedler (ShootingForWishingStars)

District 7:

F - Dianna Williams (DivaPop)

M - Open

District 8:

F - Marietta Golding (jessjessx)

M - Denim Jones (dreamgazer86)

District 9:

F - Melody Howell (jessjessx)

M - Elijah Howell (jessjessx)

District 10:

F - Open

M - Rayon Velour (Buttons301)

District 11:

F - Reserved

M - Open

District 12:

F - Sapphire Emerson (DivaPop)

M - Mors Darwin Freeman (Labyrinth-Designer)


	3. District 12 Reapings

Sapphire Emerson POV

When I wake up, the light blinds through the rips and tears of the curtains. We might as well not _have _any curtains, for the little piece of fabric we have there is a poor substitute for the real thing. I can tell by the sunlight that it's later than when I'd usually wake up. This is because today is the Reaping; I can only pray for my sister's safety, and my brother's too…

Because he's not as safe as her. At least Rosie has me to volunteer for her. I can't save Harold. _Can't save Harold. Can't save Harold. _He's eighteen, and took all of our tesserae. Doesn't that mean I'm pretty safe? _But he's not. _Ugh, shut up.

"Oh, good, you're awake," my mother says, laying a cream-coloured dress on my bed. I pick it up, my fingers smoothing over the layer of silk over the hem of the dress.

"It's beautiful," I say, and she smiles. I'm sure she's proud by my reaction.

The dress _is _beautiful, with a creamy sort of top part and then the skirt matches, but a layer of silk settles over, making the bottom two layers and the top one. It is puffy at the shoulders, and Mother ties my hair into two braids. I look younger than I should be. 14 at the most. Although my height sort of suggests my actual age of 16.

Rosie comes rushing into my room and straight into my arms. We're like this for 30 seconds before my mother gently pulls Rosie away and helps her into her dress. I can see that she's trembling. My eyes go towards Harold.

He's already done up, in a black suit, his hair combed, but his eyes show fear. He's trying to stand strong, trying to look brave, but I can read him easily. He's my _brother_, after all.

I touch him sympathetically on the shoulder. "You'll be fine," I say. "There's tons of other people. Just like you. Heck, maybe a younger person will be reaped this year. Harold, there's loads of slips there. The odds are against it."

He nods. Even if Harold was reaped, he'll stand a little bit of a chance. He's broad-shouldered, with muscles worthy for the Games. He's been strong his whole life, because he loves nature, and often takes me out to the meadow to play when we were younger; but as we got older, playing got childish, so we just relaxed in the sun and fiddled with blades of grass. Sometimes I made daisy chains, in summer. It was a pass-time in our district, where our parents were sent out to work in the coal mines every day.

Rosie was the one who played, spinning repeatedly in the meadow. If she got too close to the supposedly electric fence I'd be up there like a shot, pulling her away softly and checking to see whether the fence was alive with electricity. It usually wasn't.

But there are so many dangers lurking out in the woods beyond, I can't risk Rosie getting close to there. Harold is concerned about her safety too. Sometimes we think the meadow might seem innocent, but it's right by the wilderness. If Rosie ever saw the weak spots in the fence, curiosity would get the better of her. Then what would happen? Rosie can't be out there. So we usually stay pretty close to the entrance of the Meadow.

Harold gives me a charm necklace he bought this morning and presses it in my hand. "For luck," he says, and he leaves the room. I put the necklace on and look in the mirror. I'm still bare-foot, but Mother hands me some cream shoes to match my dress, and I put it on obediently.

As I get a closer look in the mirror, I see that hanging on the end of the necklace is a silver star. It's beautiful, and twinkles in the light. Rosie gazes in awe at the star.

She's wearing a white dress with cherries on, her best dress, and the same shoes as me but quite a few sizes smaller. "You look gorgeous," I say, squatting down a little so I'm level with her face. "Listen, you don't need to worry. None of us will be picked, you hear me? There's thousands of other slips in the bowls, you know. You have one. I have five slips." I don't mention Harold's. I don't want her to worry. "Six slips in the bowl belong to us two. Six in thousands. Okay?" I ask, and she nods.

"What about Har-" she begins, but thankfully Mother calls for breakfast before she can question about Harold's safety.

After breakfast, which consists of just stale bread, we head to the square. I woke up too late to do anything before the reaping. My blue eyes meet a pair of brown ones, and I immediately look away, because I just…I just can't. It's too painful.

Okay, I guess I should explain.

There's this boy from the Hob, he helps out a lot. He feeds poor people who are starving to death, he helps them walk inside to give them a meal. I once saw him literally save a man's life by carrying him inside his house and giving him a meal. It was a middle-aged man, who already looked eighty, the way he was so skinny and his skin seemed to sag slightly. He looked so miserable, until he was presented with a meal by this mystery boy.

I see him at school as well. Whenever my eyes find his, they sort of dart away. As if he's afraid of meeting my gaze.

"Right, Rosie, time to check in," I say, trying to sound cheerful, but my voice goes up at the start of the sentence then down, but I keep a smile plastered on my face for her sake.

"That looks like it hurts," she says as she sees a girl her age have her finger pricked and her blood placed on the paper.

"It only hurts a bit," I reassure her. "You get used to it as the years go by. I'll go first, you go behind me in the line, okay?"

We join the line and when it's my turn, I keep my head held high for Rosie's sake, even when the needle enters my finger. I withdraw my hand from the woman's grasp and she identifies me and writes my name on the paper. "Next," she says, and Rosie staggers through her injection a little harder than me. I hug her afterwards, because she was brave, even when she cries when she cuts her knee after falling over in the meadow. Even the most shallow cut, she cries and makes a fuss about.

I wonder how she'd feel if she had a knife in her stomach.

I drop these thoughts and join with the 16 year old girls, standing by one of my friends from school. "Good luck," she says, and takes my necklace in her hands. "Nice necklace."

"It's from my brother," I choke out, and look to the other side, trying to find Harold, when-

_BOOM_. It's those eyes again, but this time they're green. But they belong to the same person. Before I can react to these changing eyes, the reaping starts.

"Welcome to the District 12 reapings for the 44th Annual Hunger Games!" Dandelion, the escort, says in her perky and high-pitched voice. I roll my eyes. I hate the Capitol accent. "Let's choose our future victors, shall we?"

The mayor starts off, reading about how the Dark Days must never be repeated and all that. I look at my friend, Felicity, and she pulls faces for me so I'm entertained. I stifle a laugh.

Then Dandelion comes back on and says, "So, the time is here! We are going to select our female first." She walks towards the reaping bowl.

It won't be me. It won't be me. Or Rosie.

It's not Rosie.

"Sapphire Emerson!"

My family reacts before I do, a desperate shriek from Rosie, and I can now see Harold, his face looking like stone. _He could be reaped alongside me. _At least Rosie's safe. But wait.

_It's me. I'm going to die._

I take my first step hesitantly, more eyes focusing on mine. All except for the pair of brown or green eyes that are now trained on the floor. I am slowly walking to the stage, each step taking about three seconds to perform. "Hurry up, dear," Dandelion says, beckoning towards the stage with her gloved hands.

I finally reach the stage. "No!" Rosie cries, and I spin around. She's standing in the aisle. "_No!_" she cries again.

Harold comes and pulls her back to our mother. The Peacekeepers frown, but don't push them away. Harold gets the hint and joins back the eighteen year old boys. I'm on the stage, desperately fighting tears at the sight of Rosie sobbing in my mother's arms, my father patting her on the shoulder.

"Now, for the boys!"

_Please not Harold, _I think.

"Mors Darwin Freeman!"

I sigh with relief. _Who's that? Who are they looking at? _I follow the gazes of many people and then it's like a dagger in my heart. _No! No! _My insides are sort of screaming, wishing for this to be a nightmare. The boy is sturdy as he steps onto the stage much faster than me. I can see a few younger boys with tears in their eyes, and I know he's got family just like me.

_I can't kill him! I can't! _Okay, maybe it makes me red in the face to admit it, but he's kind of attractive. I can tell the Capitol audience will like him. Whereas I? I have auburn hair that flows down to just above the middle of my back, and I'm quite skinny. I have blue eyes and pale skin. I'm not that attractive.

His eyes meet mine, and now they're brown. _What the hell? _my mind screams. _How does his eyes change like that?_

"Congratulations to our tributes for District 12, Sapphire Emerson and Mors Darwin Freeman!" Dandelion chirped. "Shake hands, you two."

I turn towards him slowly. There's just the slightest sign of tears in my eyes as I grip his hand and shake it slightly, then release. I tear my eyes away from him, because it's killing me. Killing me, just like the Games will kill me. And him.

_Maybe we're better off dead._


	4. District 9 Reapings

**Elijah Howell's POV:**

I'm standing in front of the mirror, wearing a black suit. My sister, Melody, stands in a pretty white dress down to her knees. Her blue eyes have signs of tears and her brown hair is tangled and frizzy. After Mother brushes it out, she looks as beautiful as the girl inside her. I give her a hug.

"Sorry to be causing a fuss over my four entries," she says with a light, forced laugh. "You have way more, after all."

The tight feeling in my stomach tightens even more. Melody immediately steps back with a hand over her mouth. She doesn't really know what's good to say at the right time. "Oh my gosh, Eli, I'm so sorry," she says, and pulls me into a tight hug. "I shouldn't have said anything. I'm so sorry."

"It's fine, Mel," I say. "After all, there's thousands of slips, as you say every year."

**Melody Howell POV:**

I can't believe I said that to Eli. Okay, that's a bad starter sentence. My name is Melody, I'm fifteen years old and me and my brother, who you've already been acquainted with, are from District Nine, the grain district. That's what we usually study at school. Besides the history of Panem and information about the other districts, usually everything we learn is related to grain.

When I get downstairs, forcing myself to push my daydreams away, I sit and shove the food into my mouth. I feel sick already but after the bread's gone down I'm extremely nauseous. Eli notices me holding my stomach and he grabs me, takes me to the bathroom, opens the toilet lid and I vomit down there, just in time.

I smile at him as I take a drink of water to rid my mouth of the horrible taste. "You know me too well," I say in between large gulps, and Mother calls us to the door.

**Elijah Howell POV:**

The square can sometimes be pretty, but today it's ugly, with camera crews perched on the roofs of the shops and a large stage with a huge screen ruining the sight. The age groups are all roped off and there's a small station where they take your blood. Already a long line is starting, and I take Melody to the line. She's clasping my hand too hard and hasn't even noticed.

Melody's one of a kind. You can only get so many girls like her in the world. She's dreamy and kind, shy but inside her head there's a whole universe to be explored. She's also very pretty, not in the show-off way, but in the modest way.

We have our fingers pricked by the needle and I kiss Melody on the cheek and pat her twice on the shoulder before she slowly walks to the group of 15 year old girls. I head towards where the eighteen year old boys go.

Oh, yeah. This is my last year.

**Melody Howell POV:**

I have three more years of the reapings left. Elijah has one. I'm so thankful, so glad for him, he's only got one more day of suffering to endure. The reaping is horrible, and everybody feels tense and nervous. Heck, even the twelve year old people with no tesserae get nervous, because there's always a chance, whether it's the tiniest slip of a chance or the greatest chance possible, there's always a chance.

With my four slips, the chance is fairly small.

But I still don't want to risk it, feel the pain of having to go through an experience as horrific as the Games. But I'm drawn once again from my thoughts and daydreams by the sound of our escort, Twinkie, stepping up to the stage and starting to speak.

"Hello, District 9!" she says in her excited voice. "It is once again time for the reapings, where we will select two young people from our district to participate in the Hunger Games! Oh, I almost forgot! Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favour!" Then she hands the stage to the mayor, who reads the long, dull Treaty of Treason.

**Elijah Howell POV:**

"And so it was decreed that each year, the 12 districts of Panem would offer up in tribute one young man and woman to fight to the death in a vast, outdoor arena in a pageant of honour and glory. The tributes would fight until a lone victor remained. The victor, bathed in riches, would serve as a reminder that the Dark Days must never be repeated. This is how we remember our past."

The mayor took a seat as we gave a nervous clap. We were all so overcome with anxiety, it's a wonder we managed to clap at all.

Twinkie hopped back up to the stage. "So, now for the most exciting highlight of our day! It's time to choose our tributes. First, the girls!"

Please not Melody. Please, not Melody, anybody but Melody, anybody but-

"Melody Howell!"

No!

**Melody Howell POV:**

There must have been a mistake. It isn't me. It can't be me. I find Elijah's eyes, but they're brimming with tears, showing anger, and staring right ahead. People start to look at me, and I know Twinkie knows where I am. I can't hide out now. I slowly start to walk out into the clear aisle. The female tribute has been revealed. I walk up to the stage, faster now, because I feel like crying and I don't want to be counted as a weakling.

I find Elijah's eye once I'm up on the stage, and through that gaze is the words we can't speak right now. "Alright! Now, for the boys!"

I can't, I think. I can't look into the eyes of any of these boys without wondering if they'll be my district partner. Especially-

"Elijah Howell!"

This is the worst day ever.

**Elijah Howell POV:**

What? No! I can't go in with Melody! I can't! I walk up boldly to the stage, just because I want to stay strong, and the tears disappear from my eyes. "Looks like we have a pair of siblings here! Very exciting!" Twinkie says, and it takes all of my energy not to glower, glare, attack, kick, punch, scream at, do anything nasty to Twinkie.

"Shake hands, siblings!" she says.

I ignore hand-shaking and go in for a hug. She hugs me back, and a few aww's come from the crowd, including Twinkie. She wipes a few mock tears from her eyes and ushers us into the justice building to say goodbye.


	5. AUTHOR'S NOTE

Oh my gosh. I am so sorry I have left this so long, attached to a tiny piece of string and left dangling in mid-air! I should have replied to some of your PM's or posted this note up earlier. As you may have guessed, I had lots of inspiration when I started to write this. I didn't realise that from that inspiration would come one of the largest writers' blocks I would have ever imagined. The first part was mere laziness, then it evolved into a writer's block. A couple of times I forced myself to write but I could only get a little paragraph onto the document. I feel so bad about this :( I guess I must postpone this. You should be expecting a surprise update in the near future!

Also, sorry for the false alarm. This isn't a proper chapter, I know.


End file.
